


Had My Eye On You

by Kateis_Cakeis



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, One Shot, basically Roth watches from afar because he can
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 20:03:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20784320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kateis_Cakeis/pseuds/Kateis_Cakeis
Summary: Maxwell witnesses a hooded man act as if the streets are his own. After witnessing his skills, he was intrigued.Who was this Jacob Frye? And could he charm him?





	Had My Eye On You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GavImp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GavImp/gifts).

> This fic was requested by and is for [deadlysequence!](https://deadlysequence.tumblr.com/)  
Go check her out, she's awesome!

Maxwell stopped in his tracks as he saw a hooded man running towards a Blighter on the street. As he was about to shout, to try and warn them, the man tackled him to the ground, sticking a blade into his chest.

A hidden blade…

Starrick had once warned him about Assassins, but London had been free of them for one hundred years. And now, here was one, on the street, killing one of his Blighters and expecting to get away with it.

There were plenty of shadows to hide in due to the darkness of the night. It was easy to follow the Assassin without his knowledge. These were Maxwell’s streets after all. Using his vast skills, he knew how to follow someone. Even an Assassin wouldn’t be able to see him coming.

He slipped into an alley, behind some terraces, that opened up to a small area full of flowers and grass. The hooded reprobate jumped up and sat on a wall, swinging his legs. He seemed to be young, in ways. His coat was dirty and tattered. Clearly, he didn’t care much for fashion. And that seemed unusual for an Assassin, the history books made it seem as if they were always well-dressed individuals.

Although, he did suppose there had to be some black sheep amongst their ranks.

A group of Blighters soon approached, chatting away. Maxwell smiled, while they weren’t part of his favourite bunch, he knew they were interesting people.

The Assassin fiddled with his gauntlet, beginning to hum. As they neared, he spoke up, loudly. “You know, if you join the Rooks, you won’t die.”

One put their hand at their hip, near their knife. “What do you mean?”

The Assassin hopped down, withdrawing his kukri. “What I said. So, what do you say? Will you join me?”

Sounded like a charmer.

“Fuck no!” one shouted.

“It’s your funeral,” he said with a smug tone.

They all withdrew their knives. Maxwell sunk further into the shadows, watching carefully. The Assassin stuck his kukri into one’s chest, running to another, slicing their throat with his hidden blade. He punched the third, retrieving his kukri to stab him, before using his blade to take down the last.

He twirled his kukri in his hand, swiftly sheathing it once again. He turned, raising his arm up high, the one with the shining gauntlet upon it. A rope launcher shot up, and he was gone in an instant.

Maxwell stepped out of the shadows, looking up. The man ran across the rooftops, disappearing into the night. Probably off to kill more of his Blighters. Who the bloody hell was he?

And how could he get to know him?

\--

Maxwell was busying himself with some reports in his office when there was a knock at the door. He stood, straightening his waistcoat.

“Come in.”

John entered the room, a slight bounce in his step. “Sir.”

Maxwell smiled, rounding his desk. “Do you have news?”

“Yes. He’s called Jacob Frye. He and his twin sister are new to town. They’re Assassins.”

“I figured he was.”

“How do you want us to proceed?”

“I don’t want you approaching him. The same goes for the other original Blighters. He’s far too skilled.” He smirked, his lips curling. “He’s mine.”

John raised an eyebrow. “In what way?”

“Would you mind if I talked about him?”

“Not at all.”

Maxwell spun on his heel, sitting back down, while John sat on the chair opposite the desk. He smiled, leaning forward, looking thoroughly engaged.

“I feel the name Jacob Frye suits him well, for all I’ve seen. He’s a wonder. Anyone who dares to threaten him lies dead within a minute. He cares for the people of this city, and that is truly admirable considering the state of this place. Being an Assassin and a gang leader, you would think he would be violent and ruthless in all aspects, but no, he can be awfully gentle with his Rooks. I’m utterly fascinated that a person such as himself could be so inspiring while killing so many.”

John lit up. “It sounds as if the last thing you’d want is his death.”

“You’re absolutely right, my friend.” Maxwell narrowed his eyes, staring off in the distance, slightly smiling. “He’s as chaotic as me. We’ll make a good pair.”

“Oh… Well then, Maxwell, I hope he likes you.”

“Me too.”

\--

Jacob scaled down the building and Maxwell peeked out from his hiding spot, finding that the Sergeant was also gone. He stepped up to the edge of the building, leaning upon the edging just as Jacob had done moments ago.

He watched as Jacob ran across the streets, using his rope launcher to get up onto the Bank of England’s roof, slipping in from above. Maxwell smiled, only he could be so reckless and skilled to do that. He was one brilliant Assassin, brave and utterly chaotic. Maxwell had been watching him for so long now that he felt as if he was getting to know him indirectly.

Jacob wasn’t afraid to take down Blighters in the middle of the street, during the day, with his hood down. He got stuck in while fighting, getting rough when he needed to defend himself. He wasn’t spotted often when liberating a factory or weakening a stronghold, but when he was, no Blighter stood a single chance.

Maxwell wouldn’t mind dying by his hands, as long as it ended as dramatically as it usually did for others.

It wasn’t long before Jacob walked out of the bank calmly, as if nothing had happened inside. But Twopenny was surely dead. He’d been slowly chipping away at Starrick’s control beautifully. Weakening the Blighters, killing his most trusted henchmen, and liberating boroughs. And to top it all off, he was a very handsome man.

Very handsome indeed.

Jacob sat on a bench, and as the Sergeant approached the bank, speaking to some people as others were arrested, he lay back, as smug as ever. Maxwell wanted to meet him, badly. Seeing the chaos he’d caused around London, all in the pursuit of freedom, it amazed him. He felt as if they were similar. And if he said the right things… he was sure he could charm him.

He had seen enough to conclude that Jacob may indeed like men. His interactions with the Sergeant were, in a way, proof. Whether he was aware of it or not, Maxwell could be the catalyst to Jacob realising his true self.

And if he was lucky, Jacob could be his.

\--

“Lewis!” Maxwell shouted as he sat back. The letter seemed… far too romantic. He needed the right balance. To express his eagerness to meet him without making it seem… like he’d been following him.

Not that it was necessarily a bad thing, but he didn’t want to invite Jacob just for him to assassinate him, he wanted to pique his interest so he would entertain his idea.

“Yes, Sir?” Lewis said, popping onto the stage, hands cupped behind his back as he stopped beside the table.

“I need help with my letter.” He leant forward, handing it to him. “I want to invite Jacob Frye to dinner, not scare him off in an instant.”

Lewis chuckled softly. “I don’t think you could. Jacob Frye hardly knows you exist, according to your Blighters.”

Maxwell hummed. “Yes… Starrick does like to erase my existence.” He picked up his pen, retrieving a new sheet of paper. “How about I start with that then?”

“Sounds perfect. Then you could introduce yourself, make him interested. And then… perhaps, you could invite him to dinner, to express your plans.”

“Oh, Lewis, you’re a genius!”

Lewis blushed slightly, coughing as if to cover it. “I’ll let you get on with it, Sir.”

“Thank you for the help.”

Maxwell eagerly wrote the letter, knowing exactly what to say in each paragraph. He kept it short and brief, restraining himself. He could hardly rattle off compliments or express his feelings like he was some gentleman pining over a lady. No, he was a criminal mastermind, the true leader of the Blighters, asking a rival gang leader to come meet with him.

It was as simple as that.

Didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to woo Jacob at all. He would. But it would come after, once he had met him.

As he placed his pen back in its ink well, he picked up the letter, giving it the once over.

It was good, perfect, if he did say so himself.

It read:

‘_Dear Mr Frye,_

_Perhaps you have not heard of me for our mutual friend prefers to bury my existence under a pile of Blighter corpses. _

_My name is Maxwell Roth, and I have acted as somewhat of a father to the ones in red. I write to you because the Blighters’ decline has caused a quite of stir in the underworld. Quite a stir indeed. _

_But let us get right to the point. _

_Enclosed, please find an invitation to dine with me this evening at the Alhambra Music Hall. _

_I would be honoured to have such an esteemed guest._

_Yours,  
Maxwell Roth’_

“Lewis!”

Lewis reappeared within a few seconds, as if he had stayed close in case Maxwell required his attention again. He was a bloody good assistant. “Is it done?”

“It is.” With a grin he handed it over to him. “Make sure it gets to Elizabeth. I need her to infiltrate the Frye train.”

“I’m sure she’ll have it done by the end of the day.”

“Good.”

\--

Maxwell was busy getting the drinks sorted when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to see Jacob approaching. “Ah! Our honoured guest has arrived!” He gestured to the seat he’d perfectly positioned. “Come. Sit.”

He took a tankard, approaching the table while pouring more wine into it. “I've had my eye on you for some time.” He placed it down on the table, to which Jacob grabbed it immediately. He did seem to like his alcohol. “I find your... heroics in battling the great Crawford Starrick,” He took his own mug, filling it up, “quite magnificent.”

“I've been picking off your soldiers one by one,” He placed his tankard back on the table, leaning forward, “doesn't that make you angry?”

A statement to challenge him, but also, in a way, to ask why he was there. Of course, the last thing Jacob could do was make him angry for doing his job. After all, it was _amazing _to watch him work.

“On the contrary. Surprise is the spice of life! Now, Mr Starrick,” He looked off into the distance, narrowing his eyes, “that's a different story. I'm drowning in directives, all terribly boring.”

He leant in close to Jacob, hoping what he was about to say would make him interested. He wasn’t dead yet, the letter had worked. So, he began refilling Jacob’s mug. “Let's say we work together and bring him down.”

Jacob huffed a breath, humming. “I'm not so sure about that...” He took a large sip of his wine.

It wasn’t a no. Definitely not a no. Maxwell had one chance at this, and victory was in sight.

“My friend, if I fail to provide you with the chance to cause Starrick some pain, well you can charge into this theatre and kill me yourself.” It wasn’t his preferred outcome, of course, but wouldn’t it be beautiful if that was how it ended? To die at the hands of someone he knew he could hold very close to his heart.

Jacob leant back in his seat. “What do you get out of all this?” His stare was intense, his expression searching for an answer.

Maxwell spread his arms, feeling overly joyful as he knew just how to charm the beautiful, dangerous, wondrous Assassin. He wasn’t about to let him slip out of his grasp. “The chance to have a little fun with the bravest man in London!” He raised his bottle to him, making the statement all the more sincere.

Jacob scoffed, looking down for a moment, smiling slightly. Slowly, he glanced back up at him, gazing at him from underneath his eyelashes. Did he know how intoxicating he was, how handsome? “You have a deal.”

As Jacob reached out with his tankard, Maxwell stumbled a little on his feet. He hardly believed he’d managed it. He could truly have some fun now… He clinked Jacob’s tankard, and the both of them laughed, grinning at each other. They both took a drink, sealing the deal.

“Lewis! My carriage!” Maxwell bent his knees, getting to Jacob’s eye level. They grinned at each other, in a perfect moment. Jacob placed his tankard back on the table and Maxwell reached for the wine bottle, still smiling. “Shall we?”

He ran off towards backstage, with Jacob following behind him. He let out a small laugh. Maxwell knew… he just knew that whatever happened next, it would be glorious.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thanks for reading ^.^   
Come talk to me on [tumblr!!](https://kateis-cakeis.tumblr.com/)


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